A Clingy Boy Sticking For 15 Years
by Saebeunteen
Summary: Highly based off of the Vocaloid song with the same name.


_**First Year**_

This was the first year I wrote to you. I wrote to you frantically every day. 365 days worthy of poems wrote towards you and only you.

I wrote about the years we've been together. We had a lot of memorable moments.

Do you still remember when we first met and how we met? You were the new kid in school and you were running through the hallway. Me being the jerk I was, tripped you and laughed at you. I didn't know how much I would start loving you like that.

Do you remember our first kiss? It was our first anniversary, I prepared a moonlit picnic with candles and rose petals scattered around the grass. You were smiling so brightly and I gave you our relationship ring. You hugged me very tightly and we were so close, looking at each others eyes and then we kissed! It was romantic, right?

Do you remember how I proposed to you? I don't even clearly remember it, but I am pretty sure it was on the beach. I said I wanna show you something and we went to look at the sun setting, which was beautiful. There I took out the ring and knelt down and presented it to you. You burst in tears before I even said anything and I said it was just a prank. That smack was way too hard, honestly I can still feel my face burn. You ran away and I ran after you and told you the truth. You finally accepted it. The most beautiful moment of my life.

It's a shame that you didn't reply though...

 _ **Second yea**_ r

This year I was even more reckless than last year. Once again I wrote to you every single day without fail. Some days I even wrote two poems. I was so in my own world, I didn't notice anything happening around me at all. I wouldn't even notice my house burning. In fact, even my clothing set ablaze. By the time I realized what was happening my collar was the only thing that was still here.

 _ **Third Yea**_ r

By the third year I had calmed down a bit. I stopped writing everyday, because my boss at work was getting annoyed with me always writing "stupid" stuff, as he said.

I publicized the journal I was writing my poems of love to you online. I think I wrote enough for two full books already.

It's a shame that I still didn't get a reply from you.

 _ **Fourth Yea**_ r

This year I wrote my poems to a magazine. They monthly published two of my best poems, it was a great honor. I wrote about social issues. Eventually I decided it was time to publish a full length compilation of my best works. That was also the title of my compilation, "My Best Works". I thought I could get work by this, so I quit my work as a salary man.

It's a shame that I still didn't get a reply...

 _ **Fifth Year**_

By the fifth year, I already established myself as a professional poet. My books had great success with the ladies who swooned over my love for you. They we're mostly between the ages of 20 and 35. They all loved me, but to me they were too simple headed. To me those women we're just simplistic pansies.

 _ **Sixth Year**_

This year I basically ruined my entire body.

I wrote over two thousand poems of love to you. I was determined they would one day reach you. Not a bone hadn't been broken. Not an organ hadn't been damaged. That's how poorly I took care of my body. But all of that didn't matter to me, I kept on writing.

You still hadn't replied to me.

 _ **Seventh Year**_

In the seventh year my body was back to it's perfect form. I went to the gym more often, to get my body back to the way it was when we were still together. I remember you complimenting me for my abs, hehe.

The last few days I've been comparing you to some things. Perhaps you're like extreme ironing. Perhaps you're like a compound inner product space.

 _ **Eight Year**_

In this year I didn't change much, so once again I want to compare you to some certain things. Perhaps you're just like winning all 16 matches in a sumo tournament.

 _ **Ninth Yea**_ r

On the ninth year I had an extremely severe accident. I suffered an extreme blow to my head. It could've been severe, I could've died. The doctor said I wasn't looking and I got hit by a car. I didn't have any memories, I didn't even know my own name. I was in so much confusion. But despite all of that, I could still remember the love I felt for only you. I returned to writing poems to you, my true love.

 _ **Tenth to Eleventh Year**_

For some unknown reason I didn't get my memories back as the doctor said. I still didn't know what I had done in the years before me, but I kept on loving you. I kept on writing my poems of love and sent them to you in hope that you would eventually give me my well deserved reply.

 _ **Twelfth through Thirteenth year**_

My memories still didn't return to me. But I kept writing to you. I kept loving. My love for you was really the only thing I had in my life. I didn't have my family, didn't have my friends, only me and my love for you.

I still didn't get my reply from you, but I'll keep writing to you.

 _ **Fourteenth year**_

Even this year I didn't get my memories back. It was honestly one of the most depressing experiences in my life. I was so frustrated what has happened in my life to not get my memories back. The doctor said that most experiences of memory loss is when you have experienced a traumatizing experience.

Every day that passed that year we're frightening and uneasy. I kept feeling as if my head was stopping me from getting my memories back. I just wanted to catch a simple glimpse from you, but I wasn't getting anything. I honestly just wanted to talk to you, even for a little while.

 _ **Fifteenth year**_

In this year I gradually got my memories back. First my memories from writing my poems to you. Until 15 years ago.

That's when I bursted into tears. My eyes were like waterfalls, I couldn't stop. Two days of nonstop crying. I remembered everything now. Really everything.

The reason why I bursted into tears was because...

15 years ago, you died inside of my arms. You died of a fatal poison.

These poems written for you with my love. If I kept piling them up, would they one day reach you? I kept stacking them up inside of your former room. I couldn't be able to see you anymore, despite that, I kept loving you. I thought we would be able to see each other again and you disappeared once again.

These poems written of my love, I kept sending them for 16 years straight. Still there is no reply...

Still there is no reply...


End file.
